"While life could be evaded, death could not."

Dean Koontz

As Harry sat, swinging his feet in the large circular office he couldn't help the sigh that escaped him. He should have known this would happen, his aunt had said it was likely. The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses were looking at him curiously and whispering amongst themselves, they quieted as the door opened and the current Headmaster stepped in.

"Ah! Harry my dear boy, how are you? Enjoying Hogwarts so far?" The man asked, striding across the room to take a seat at his desk in front of Harry.

"Er, yes sir. Classes haven't started yet though, so I don't really know." He answered, sitting slightly taller in his chair.

"Good, good. Now Harry I'm sure you want to know why I've brought you here," Dumbledore paused, surveying Harry over his glasses. "It has come to my attention that you are no longer living with your relatives and have not been for several years now. Where exactly have you been Mr. Potter?"

"With my aunt sir," Harry answered, not entirely sure why it was so important to the Headmaster where he was living. "She was away when my parents died, but came to collect me from the Dursleys as soon as she was back."

"Harry, I'm afraid there has been some sort of mistake," Dumbledore had a deep frown on his face as he turned his eyes to the clock for a moment. "You see your aunt Petunia is your last remaining family member next to your cousin. If anyone took you from your aunts' home and told you they were family, they were not telling you the truth."

Harry felt himself bristle, "You're wrong sir, and my aunt loves me very much. She's taken better care of me than Mrs. Dursley ever did. You have-"

The door opened again, a familiar woman standing in the archway, "That's enough Harry. Apologize to the Headmaster please."

"Quite alright," Headmaster Dumbledore said, standing as she moved into the room. His eyes were like ice as she moved to stand next to Harry, ruffling his already messy hair. "Now, there-"

"Headmaster, perhaps Harry could go on ahead to classes?" His aunt suggested before Dumbledore could begin, "There's no sense in him getting behind and perhaps this isn't the sort of talk for an eleven year old?"

"Yes, that would likely be best." Dumbledore agreed, "You have your timetable Harry?"

Harry nodded, moving to the door before it closed though, "Harry!" His aunt's voice made him pause, "Congratulations on getting in Gryffindor. Your parents would be very proud." He gave her a smile as the door shut with a click.

"Now," Dumbledore's eyes were like ice as he stared at the young woman who looked remarkably like James Potters younger sister had. "Who are you and why have you taken Harry Potter from his relatives."

The young woman gave him a mischievous smile, "The question is who do you think I am Headmaster? I could tell you anything and you wouldn't believe any of it. So what is it? Am I a Death Eater? Or perhaps a crazy fan? Maybe a fanatical pureblood who doesn't want the Boy-Who-Lived raised by muggles?" Her eyes narrowed, "Or perhaps Headmaster, I really am who I've told Harry I am. Perhaps I took the boy from the terrible people you placed him with because I really am the last of his family."

"Harry has been with you for almost 5 years now; I don't believe you to be a Death Eater. Had you been I doubt he would currently be sitting in Charms." The Headmaster answered, "However I do wish to know exactually who you are saying you are."

"I am Emina Potter," She answered, steel in her voice even as she turned her molten eyes to one of the shelves in the office. "I am unsure what I can do to convince you I am telling the truth, not that it matters really."

"Oh? And why would that be?" Dumbledore asked, seeming thrown by the idea that someone truly didn't care about his opinion.

Emina surveyed him with a shrewd look, "Because Harry trusts me despite what you just tried to pull. He knows I'll take care of him and look out for his best interest." Here her eyes turned downright piercing, "His. Not the 'greater goods'."

Albus Dumbledore looked away and the office was silent for a few moments before he spoke. "If you are indeed Emina, you are not the girl I remember. How is it that you are here? I went to the manor that night."

"Professor, look at me." She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. "I… did die that night. I can remember every moment of that night. They killed my mother first, so that father would have to watch. And then they… tortured me- I.. I can remember how it felt, you know. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. They killed my father while they were doing it, the last thing he saw. And then they killed me. It changes you, dying I mean." She gazed out the window for a moment, "It seems like such a blur, being dead. All I can remember is this feeling that I shouldn't be there yet, that there was something I needed to be doing. And then I heard his voice, calling me back."

"Whose voice, Emina?" Dumbledore asked, sounding as though, at long last, he believed her.

"Mine," Dumbledore spun, his eyes wide as they took in the man who was leaning gracefully against the bottom of the stairs. His aristocratic features mimicked those of the Black and Potter families, yet there was something otherworldly about the dark haired young man.

"And you are?" Dumbledore asked, pushing down a feeling of foreboding at the predatory look in his eyes.

"Death. A pleasure to meet you Albus, I can call you Albus?" He smirked, dropping gracefully into one of the armchairs in front of the desk as Albus sunk into his own chair. "Yes, perhaps sitting is best. This is going to be a rather long conversation."